Welcome to the Men's Club
by Golden Boots
Summary: Seduction is a long game and Russell has had almost three thousand years' practice. Will Steve be worth the wait? Welcome to the men's club, a space in which men can be men and enjoy each other's company. It's Russell's kinda joint. SETTING: Season 5 post "Everybody Wants to Rule the World". ICON CREDIT: truebloodv3 on LiveJournal USUAL DISCLAIMERS APPLY


They'd had to drive a long way from Bon Temps to find the kind of men's club Russell was after.

All through the night and day, they'd driven in a limousine with blacked out rear windows, and black glass between themselves and the werewolf chauffeur. Russell was old enough and strong enough to resist falling asleep when day broke but Steve Newlin, naught but a tremulous fledgling, had zero willpower in that department. The coming sun drew a bright line across the horizon, the birds began to mutter and his eyelids fluttered like broken wings. It was at that moment that Russell noted what astonishingly long lashes the boy had.

But no willpower. The sun rose and he fell sideways like a toppled statue, landing head-first in his mentor's lap.

Emma whined and wriggled closer, licking at his hand, wanting tickles in the day just like her adoring new daddy had given her all night. Not a chance. He was out for the count.

Russell smiled wryly and ran his fingers through neat, dark hair. Leaning down, he whispered in his ear in that lilting, decadent tone of his, "I have no idea if my voice can penetrate your slumber but if it can, know this. It is not morality, darlin', that stays my hand from molesting you as you sleep –" he palmed the curve of Steve's shoulder "- but lust itself. I want you fully aware and looking into my eyes when I take you for the first time. I know it's what you want, what you've been mooning for since first we met. I knew what was in you when I heard of the way you responded to that tyrant Roman's touch. And believe me, I can give you what you want. But not yet." He threw a protective arm across the young vampire, hugging his sleeping body to him as he leant back against black leather upholstery. "Not quite yet."

Beyond the window, Louisiana bayou fell behind them, all unseen by the vampire passengers.

* * *

It was called 'The Halcyon Club South'. It sat in its own grounds not far from the city but surrounded by open countryside. Ionic columns flanked the solid oak front door. There were masonic symbols rendered in stone above it.

Russell was unimpressed. He'd been a prominent member of the Freemasons' previous incarnation, the Knights Templar. And he'd only taken up that position because, as master of ceremonies at initiation to the order, he'd had regular opportunity to spit on the Bible and fuck novices in the ass. Now that's what he called halcyon days. They'd got wise to him, of course; chased him out of Jerusalem. On horseback, no less. And he hadn't even been able to fly back then.

The interior was more to his taste – dark wood, cracked oil paintings, green leather Chesterfield couches and orange glass lamps. Subdued elegance. The leaping flames in the hearth brought out the colour in everything, even the lifeless bodies that now littered the reception room. Russell yawned. Feasting always made him sleepy. He grinned amicably at the man he had pinned by the neck to the wing-backed chair beside the fire.

His soon-to-be-victim was a vigorous man in his late fifties. He had a head of healthy, curling grey hair and the lines on his face only made him more striking. Russell guessed he was the kind of male who'd appeared amorphous in his younger years and had grown into his looks. His husky frame was immaculately clad in a navy suit with white shirt and cream Paisley cravat. The vampire's eyes roamed covetously over him while the man's flicked towards the only other surviving member of his club. They brimmed with pity.

Naked, this younger man lay on his side on a sumptuous Turkish rug with a clothed Steve Newlin spooning him.

 _Hm,_ thought Russell. They'd chosen victims that matched their own age and type. _How charming_. _Are you mirroring me, Steve?_ He hadn't spent much time with baby vampires in recent centuries. It hadn't taken many years of his own vampire existence for him to stop perceiving their naïveté as refreshing and start seeing it as ignorant bumbling. And so many new vamps were created from low grade human stock these days.

Steve was different. He'd been a worthy opponent as a human, and as a vampire, he took true joy in his new being, relishing every moment and taking nothing for granted. His turning might have been meant as punishment but it had actually done the opposite. It had redeemed him.

The older victim watched helplessly as Steve pressed himself tightly against the young club member's back and began to lick at the spot on his neck he intended to feed from. At the same time, his hand caressed the beautiful body that was now his. It ran over the man's hip and up his hairless chest, exploring every inch of his well-defined muscles. His other hand clutched at the golden brown hair that was short at the sides but luxuriant on top. When a tear trickled from the corner of one blue eye, Steve's lips pouted in sympathy and he looked up at Russell for guidance.

"Now," said the once-King of Mississippi.

His fangs flicked out and with a groan, he sank them into a neck as strong and trembling as horseflesh. Only then did the young man's small cock stiffen. Being fed on by vampires has the same tumefying effect as being strangled – at least, for a minute or two. Although when limp his cock had seemed delicate as those of Greek statues, the proximity of death lent it a certain robustness. It bounced pleasingly as Steve began to grind his hips against his victim's behind with every pull on his veins.

"What a delightfully erotic sight," mused Russell. Much as he was looking forward to seeing his protégé naked, he had to admit that the vision of him formally attired in a white Oxford shirt with thin blue stripes, gold cufflinks resplendent, and heavy dark blue pants while he writhed against his nude victim genuinely moved him. He wondered if Steve's chest would be hairless, too. He was certainly as tall as the lofty fellow he had clasped to him and with an elegant length of limb. He hoped his cock would be a tad more substantial.

"Yes, very erotic indeed." He turned to his own supper. "Not that you would appreciate it. I pity you humans sometimes, I honestly do. Here you are, elder of a club that caters exclusively to men of quality breeding and you're utterly blind to the homoeroticism of the situation. Have you ever heard of the Greek symposium? Before my time, you might be surprised to hear, but I've heard a lot of good things about it. Drinking parties where older men could meet younger ones and initiate them –" he winked "- into the ways of love. It was a rite of passage. And I bet you've never even noticed the colour of that young man's eyes."

Steve withdrew his fangs for a second so he could drawl, "Blue. James' eyes are denim blue."

"Denim blue," repeated Russell. "And the boy's name is James. That's a name made to be gasped in a lover's ear _in flagrante delicto_ , is it not?" His voice turned low and breathy. "James. _James!"_ He tightened his grip and lifted – the Halcyon Club South elder climbed to his feet. "Sadly, my draining you while you watch my pretty young friend suck the life out of your pretty young friend is the most homoerotic experience you'll ever have." And with that, he pulled him to him and tore into his throat.

* * *

"Well, who's all shipshape and Bristol fashion, then?" said Russell as Steve emerged from the locker room scrubbed clean of arterial spray and wearing appropriated gentleman's attire. That boy sure could wear a suit!

The young vamp wrinkled his nose and executed his favourite TV gesture: the point and snatch away. "I am!"

Russell grabbed the striped tie that hung loosely around Steve's neck. "What's this – a trophy?" He used it to reel in his smirking favourite.

"Guess so." He stood looking down at his mentor. Patient. Trusting. Wanting.

"Mm." He lifted the tie to his lips, running them across the red and gold silk. "Ten points to Gryffindor."

Steve giggled. Russell loved it. He hooked a genial arm around his waist. "Let's explore."

In every nook and cranny of the Halcyon Club South, Russell had something pithy to share. The wine cellar: "Bah! It's dark and dank in here. I had enough of that when I was newly-turned and squatting in the burial chambers of Eastern Europe." Before his curious friend could leap in with questions, he'd swept them both into the shooting room. The walls were festooned with gun cases and heads. Russell pointed up at the head of a doe. "Now what did she do that offended them so much? They sure as hell didn't eat her after they killed her. What these humans forget is that survival of the fittest extends to their own species and when you factor vampires into that equation, well…"

They wandered through to the grand entrance hall with its sweeping staircase and chequered floor. Suddenly, Russell found he was walking alone. He turned back with an expression of disapproval to find Steve leaning up against the mahogany newel post with one hand placed jauntily on his hip.

"You know, I think you're wrong." His almond-shaped green eyes held a sly expression.

"Oh, really?" The former vampire king plunged his hands in his pockets and sauntered over. His voice revealed amusement and just a hint of menace. "About everything generally or one thing specifically?"

"About the men who came here having encounters with one another."

"You've found evidence, have you?"

"No. I can just – picture it."

"You can picture them fucking here in the hallway?"

Steve's lips twisted in amusement but he resisted being drawn into a giggle. He began a slow parade, describing a circle around his prospective lover as he went. "Maybe not right here but there are plenty of dark corners in this place, all tucked away nice and cosy." He was gesturing enthusiastically – maybe even a little theatrically.

He reminded Russell, for a moment, of the old Steve Newlin, that pompous prick who deserved a good thrashing. _Hm, squirrel that idea away for another day_.

The ex-preacher made his eyes huge and expression plaintive – a perfect Devil's advocate. "You see, when you put men together in one place for any length of time, it's only natural they're gonna develop feelings for one another."

"Is that so?"

"Uh-huh. That's what the psychologists and the anthropologists would say." He finished up back where he'd started, leaning on the stairs, an 'I'm so clever, I could eat myself' grin plastered across his amiable features. He raised a forefinger. "And what's more –"

Russell placed a hand on his chest and pinned him against the balustrade. "Are you speaking from experience?"

"Well, that's beside the –"

"Are you? Because I was under the impression that I would be your first."

"You will," said Steve, instantly meek. He closed his eyes for a moment and swallowed, taken blood thudding in his ears. "You will."

"So how come you know so much about this particular ho-mo-sexual phenomenon? Tell me. You know you have to tell me." He began to move the hand on Steve's chest in circles, digging the heel of his palm in hard. It was an act that always sent the boy into a trance like he was some excitable little doggie.

"There was this one time at summer camp –"

"I love stories that begin that way!" He screwed up his face into its most salacious expression.

Emboldened, Steve went on. As he did so, his true story-telling self emerged – not the cynical one surfing on his own rhetoric but a sweet soul telling the truth and biting his lip at his own daring. "Actually, it happened a couple of times. We were all in our bunks one night when someone, I forget who, asked if any of us masturbated."

"Now, tell the truth, darlin'. What were the words he actually used?"

A moment of uncertainty. Steve pressed his lips together as if afraid his words would be too forward, too obscene. Then shy eyes flashed out from beneath his lids and he reproduced the tone of his old friend exactly. "Do any of y'all pull your pricks?"

Russell closed his eyes and hummed in the back of his throat as if savouring a vintage wine. "Lovely," he said as he caressed now visible fangs with the tip of his tongue. "Continue."

"Well, there were a few 'hell, yeah's and I joined in. Then he said he was going to pull his prick right then and there. And pretty much the whole room, including me, beat off under their covers."

"Did you come?"

"No. I was nervous and everyone seemed to finish before I did so I just stopped. Boy, I can still feel that ache!"

Russell raised an eyebrow. "That's it? It certainly was sweet but it was too short a story, honey, way too short." As a sort of consolation prize to himself, he undid the top few buttons of Steve's white shirt and slid a hand into the gap, circling it over bare flesh. Or not-so-bare-flesh. There was treasure! He had a dusting of dark body hair. Although Russell estimated the young vamp would have just enough muscle definition and flesh to make a hairless torso pleasant to touch, chest hair was always a bonus.

"It was on the second night that something truly extraordinary happened. The thing I'll never forget for the rest of my life. There was this kid. I hadn't noticed him before. He was small and skinny, and didn't speak up much when we were doing group activities. He wasn't bullied or anything – he was just quiet. Just there. So, we're in our dorm getting changed for bed and the kid who spoke up the night before says, 'I think I'm gonna jerk off again tonight.' He says it as a joke, a locker room joke, and all the other kids snigger but this one kid – God, I wish I knew his name! – he's off like somebody fired a pistol."

The listener nodded slowly. "So he gets in his bunk –"

"No, he doesn't. He sits on the edge of a bottom bunk and starts rubbing himself through his pyjama bottoms. He doesn't seem to care. The other guys, they laugh nervously but as he goes on, they stop what they're doing and watch.

"He takes his pyjamas off. He's completely naked now. And he's got this huge prick, like it's much too big for his frame. I mean, comic book obscene, like a pornstar's dick pasted onto a teenager's body. I suppose it gave him a certain confidence. I can remember every detail: how hard his nipples were; the way his tongue writhed over his lips; his bare toes curling and clutching at the deep pile of the rug; how swollen his balls looked. He had those kind of balls that look inflated, y'know? He loved that prick of his. He couldn't keep his eyes off it. And he wasn't jerking off perfunctorily, either – he took his time. Slow strokes, feeling the pressure, movements tailored to hit his favourite spots. He spat on it. Gahhhhd…!" Steve closed his eyes and let his head sink back.

"Nice move," said Russell. "Go on."

"He spat on it and rubbed it in. I can still see his spit running down the shaft and dripping off his balls. He was circumcised. The head looked pinker than the rest of the shaft and I swear that if he'd been capable of sucking it himself, he would've. There was something on the underside of his shaft – oh, his urethra, I realise that now! It was very prominent. I remember thinking that, when he came, I would see this big bulge of semen travelling up it."

"Nngghh." The ancient vampire was bewitched. He pressed his forehead to that gap in Steve's shirt where the heaving treasure lay. "This is good. Oh, Lilith, you're good, Steve Newlin!" He looked up into shining eyes, that great shining moon-face. "Don't stop."

"He started to move his hips. He'd been holding his erection in a thumb and two finger grip before but now it was lubricated, he closed his fist around it, and pumped and pumped. He really looked like he was fucking someone. He started leaking precum, and going faster and faster. He kept looking around at everyone watching with an astonished 'whoa-yeah-look-at-it-go!' expression." Steve imitated him, mouth hanging agog. Then he closed his eyes, pretty lashes like inverted fans on his cheeks. "And then he came."

"Describe it to me."

"It's like I'm remembering it in slow motion. Arcs of jism suspended in the air. The joy frozen on his face. Unbridled groans that went on forever. There was jizz sliding down his stomach…"

"Stop. Stop," gasped Russell. "I want to save it." Though he had gorged on blood for most of the evening, he still found the appetite to pierce Steve's neck, all the while grinding his hips, his cock, against his protégé's. He drank in his blood and his moans.

Once he'd done and his bloodied face was hovering before Steve's, the young vamp whispered, "I wish you were my Maker."

"Pretend I am. Isn't that the most wonderful game?" The game was often superior to the reality. His progeny had tended to be contrary types and rarely called him Maker.

"You're my Maker," said Steve huskily. "You're my _Maker_. _"_ His fangs did not pop out.

"Oh, don't sweat it, kid, it'll take a few decades as a vampire before 'Maker' has the same resonance for you as 'Daddy'."

"Russell, can I ask you something?"

"Fire away."

"That boy. Do you think he was gay?"

The laughing fit that ensued was so violent it became a coughing fit. Blood tears of laughter trickled down beside Russell's blade of a nose.

Steve shoved his hands in his pockets and looked glum. And there was so much blood in his veins that night, he actually blushed.

"Oh, honey, he was most definitely gay!" Russell slapped a hand on his shoulder. "You might not've realised it at the time but masturbating in front of y'all was probably the most exquisite experience he ever had. Maybe he didn't realise it at the time, either. But I bet you any money he's somewhere right now, 'pulling his prick' and fantasising you're there watching him."

Steve perked up a little. "You think?" His eyes began to dance with possibilities. "Maybe we could find him, make him jerk off in front of us both. Maybe we could turn him into one of us!"

"Whoa, Trigger," said Russell, pulling on his club tie like reins. "You're running way ahead of yourself there. Let's begin at the beginning. Have you ever sucked a cock?"

"No."

"Have you ever wanted to?"

"Yes."

"Have you ever thought, during the short time we've known each other, about sucking my cock?"

The once truculent right wing preacher looked shy as a girl. "Yes," he breathed.

Russell took hold of his shoulders and spun him so they switched places. Now he could relax against the balustrade. "Well, you're in luck, 'cause you're gonna suck my cock right now."

"Right now? Right here?"

"Right here in this grand, echoing hallway where anyone might walk in and see the depraved act you're committing with that slutty mouth of yours."

Steve's brows flickered but when the incubus pressed on his shoulders, he sank to his knees without protest.

Glamouring didn't work vampire to vampire yet Russell held Steve in a mesmerising gaze, green on green, just as sure as if the boy were an ordinary mortal. He took his time unbuckling his belt.

"Don't…"

"Don't what?"

"Don't pull your pants down the whole way. Please? Leave it sticking up out of your fly."

The older vamp shrugged and went with it, and he had to concede, it did look pretty fucking dirty like that.

Russell's cock was impressive. He was uncircumcised but few of his lovers had ever seen the foreskin over the head – the priapic beast was always ready for them. It was corded with veins like Celtic knotwork, the sort you can feel when your lover's inside you. The head was large and bulbous, and though Russell's length and girth were no more than a whisker above average, there was something in the trenchant hardness of his prick that told you it could own you.

Steve's face was slack with desire but still he licked his lips in trepidation.

Russell stroked the underside of his small, round chin. "Come on, little one, come on." His lips were pursed in a 'here kitty kitty' expression. "Give it just a little –"

A soft tongue emerged and licked the underside of the shiny head.

"Attaboy. First time an' all. What a good little cocksucker you are."

The upturned eyes became bold. He licked at it a few times more then took the head in his mouth and suckled. It was a toffee apple, a lollipop, a big dripping ice-cream cone. He swirled a flat, wet tongue around the head then traced the veins with the pointed tip. He held the head in his mouth, and waited until it swelled and sent his eyes rolling back in his head. He opened pouty lips wide, took in as much of the length as he could then pulled slowly back, feeling every fleshy ripple stimulate the sensitive membranes of his mouth.

His teacher sighed smugly and leant back, twining his arms through the banisters, making of them a makeshift bondage rack where he could writhe and buck without restraint. Still, he couldn't resist the occasional imperious thrust. Steve had just got into his stride, using one hand to rub the shaft while his mouth suckled away when Russell couldn't hold back any longer and rammed his cock into his face.

It was too much. Steve's whole face clenched and he gagged. Cheeks now bright red, he pulled back, two long strings of pink-tinged spit hanging between his swollen lips and Russell's cockhead like some profane cat's cradle. He gasped for breath and looked up at the older vampire with apprehension.

"Aw, was I a little rough with you, darlin'?" He placed a gentle hand under Steve's wet chin. "You're such a sexy boy, I forgot you were a beginner." He ran a hand through tousled dark hair. It felt like feathers. "You realise it's impossible to choke now you're a vampire, dontcha? Gagging – and for that matter, breathing – is psychological, a hangover from your mortal life. You're beyond that now. Almost anything you ask of your body, it can do, so long as you're prepared for it. Let my cock slide into your throat and live there – yes, it's possible. You've got all the time in the world, my lovebird – relish it."

The baby vamp's eyes grew glazed as Russell took his head in his hands, manoeuvred him so the angle of his throat was in line with the angle of his stiff prick then drove it right to the root.

It was true! He willed it and his throat opened, the entire length becoming a silken sheath that milked and vibrated Russell with his every twitch and moan.

This time, his mentor was more considerate, contenting himself with focusing on the extraordinary suction a tamed oesophagus could supply while stroking Steve's cheek with the backs of his fingers. His young lover's face was charmingly serene. When the pressure built and the desire to thrust became almost unbearable, Russell simply clutched at Steve's jacket and howled in an ancient Celtic language to the rafters.

Once he'd recovered, he looked down and was surprised to see his darlin' clean-faced.

Steve looked up with a smug grin. "Drank every last drop."

Another howl reached their ears – a reply to Russell's bestial shout.

"Emma!" cried Steve, climbing to his feet. "She's been shut in the kitchen all this time. I should be ashamed of myself."

Russell laughed as he tucked himself away. "So long as that's the only thing you're ashamed of."

* * *

He watched Steve playing with his wolfie. Utterly cute. They'd found a snug, the two vamps, a cosy sideroom with its own hearth. Steve had insisted they light a fire because 'Emma's feeling the cold' (sigh). Now he rolled on the sheepskin hearthrug having shucked his blazer and somehow ended up with his Gryffindor tie around his neck but not around the collar of his shirt. His hair was messy and his lips were fixed in that mile-wide, plump-cheeked smile. Emma had got hold of the tie and was pulling on it while Steve scolded her and laughed. Then he scooped up the bundle of grey and white fur, and planted kisses all over her chubby body.

Eyes were roaming his body at the same time. _Why do long legs look so good on a man?_ mused Russell. _They shouldn't but dammit, they do._ Steve had legs like Miss World. He squatted and gave Emma a playful rub. She responded by rolling onto her back and sinking her teeth into his hand. At least, that's what it looked like. In reality, her teeth were barely touching him though she wrinkled her nose and her eyes blazed. The vamps laughed together and Emma began to lick his hand instead and look up at him with smiling eyes. "Yes, females have their uses. Come on, girl. Time for your beddy-byes." He picked her up, though Steve protested, and carried her out to the porch where they'd set up a bed for her. Happy for now in her wolf form, she made a good watchdog and would alert them to any trouble.

"She'll quieten down soon enough," he said as he came back to the snug and spotted Steve's furrowed brow. "She's a good girl." He squatted beside him again. "And how's my boy?"

"I'm good, too." And to illustrate the fact, he rolled coquettishly on the sheepskin.

Russell dabbed his nose with a forefinger. "Your first time."

Steve echoed the touch, placing a finger in the deep cleft in his mentor's chin before rolling onto his stomach and coming over all confessional. "The hardest part was keeping my fangs in."

"Oh, tell me about it. But you know, fangs aren't a complete no-no when going down. They can be deployed judiciously to great erotic effect."

He plucked at the rug's pile. "Maybe I'll learn about that someday."

"I'm sure you will if I have anything to do with it."

The young vamp set himself on his side again. He was restless and Russell could sense the urgency building inside him. He propped his head on his hand, neck arched deliciously. He looked up at the vampire he wished was his Maker with a frank, wanting expression.

Steve, he realised, was entirely open to him. It was a fledgling thing, in a way – that blind faith that everything was possible now you'd been turned, that every fantasy could be fulfilled in a snap of finger and thumb. Problem was, the mundaneness of the new reality always kicked in at some point. The greatest battle of this ancient vampire's existence had been against the yoke of the real world. Most of the time, his egotism and debauchery triumphed but even he would admit that, every now and then, he felt it clamp about his shoulders.

Seeing Steve in a state of wonder banished the feeling utterly. It was time to give him what he wanted – what Russell himself wanted, too. It was the first time since the death of his beloved Talbot that he'd felt such want. "Let's get rid of a few of these clothes-things," he said, waving a dismissive hand. He undid the striped tie and pulled it slowly from Steve's neck. After that, he went to work on shirt buttons, taking his time, fanning his fingers over each new quarter of flesh revealed. It was cold flesh, of course, and Russell's fingers were cold but neither of them perceived their body temperature that way.

Steve had delightfully pliant flesh. He'd been no gym freak when he'd been alive but he hadn't been a couch potato, either. Perhaps a swimmer? His pectoral muscles didn't bulge but they were nicely delineated. There was a line down the middle of his chest that Russell traced with a finger – a line that continued down his belly along with that fine hair. He stopped when he reached Steve's navel then helped him push his shirt off his shoulders. Lovely deltoids. The kind of body you could just fondle and nothing else all night long. Yes, the boy was a very lovely thing, indeed.

Boy! Why did he keep thinking of him as a boy? The guy had to be around thirty. Yet there was something distinctly boyish about Steve Newlin. It was in the softness of his cheeks, the thickness of his hair, the coltishness of his frame. The preppie look he sported a lot of the time didn't help matters, either. It made Russell want to take the arms of those sweaters he wore knotted around his shoulders and tighten them around his throat until his eyes teared and his cock dilated – rip open those crisp shirts and defile him.

Steve was watching him with a soft expression, never moving a muscle. The firelight was behind the fledgling vampire and his face was shadowed. The light threw intriguing shadows across his body, too, but Russell had had enough of subtlety for now – he wanted to see all of him. He took his young lover by the shoulders and rolled him onto his back. There was no resistance. He straddled him, face but an inch or so from his, and drank in his reaction as he ran his hand from his neck down his chest and belly, and began to undo his pants.

His reaction was pleasing. His lips trembled and he closed his eyes for a moment before meeting his mentor's knowing green gaze boldly. It was more intimate than kissing, this closeness without contact.

Russell pushed open Steve's fly and cradled what he found there, rubbing gently. When his hand passed over his already swelling cock, he gave it a voluptuous squeeze. He was rewarded with a soft groan and a tilting of the pelvis towards his giving hand. "Do you like that, Steve?"

"Yes," came the murmured reply. He had a secret smile on his lips. He was lost in his body.

"Do you want me to take off your briefs, too? Strip you naked?"

"Please. Yes, please."

He removed his pants, briefs, shoes, socks, and took a good, long look at his naked lover. He paid particular attention to his cock, which he had so far felt but never seen. Yes, it would do very well indeed.

Still the stillness from the ex-preacher, watching his beau from beneath straight, dark brows.

"Would you like me to take off my clothes now?"

He nodded.

Russell unbuttoned his red silk shirt and pulled it out of his pants, revealing a wiry body that seemed to harbour secret strength, as a ninja's body does. Thick hair curled on his chest. He was inordinately proud of this hair and pushed out his chest for Steve to admire, fangs flicking out, too, with the pleasure of exhibitionism.

Instantly, Steve's fangs had done the same and he launched himself at Russell, rubbing his hands through the body hair. With a vampire hiss, his mouth locked onto his teacher's neck, licking and running his fangs along the tendons.

"Hey, hey, hey, what's all this?" said Russell, pushing the pup back onto the sheepskin.

In a flash, Steve was up and on him again.

"Baby, slow down." He held him at arm's length.

Confusion convulsed his features. He flopped down on the rug looking crestfallen. "What? That's how vampires fuck, isn't it? Ninety miles an hour."

Russell cocked his head. "Someone knows how to use the internet!" He put his hand on Steve's knee. "Sure, ninety miles an hour sex can be fun but it's the sign of an amateur, really. Tell me, what's wrong with making love like this?"

The hand gripping his knee pulled back, spreading his thighs. His mentor laid himself over him. Flesh on flesh, the weight of a man, chest hair grazing his nipples. Steve began to pant and even though Russell should've chided him for such an unnecessary, human-like response, he enjoyed the sensation so much, he couldn't bring himself to. Cute. Kind of like screwing a vampire and a human at the same time. He bit his bottom lip, dragging his teeth over it while he held his darlin' in his cobra gaze. With a deft hand, he released his own cock then grasped both it and Steve's in one fist. Slowly, he masturbated them both in the same stroke.

"Oooohhh!" Steve tilted back his head but didn't stay that way for long. The pull of the visual was too strong. His head jerked back up, and he tucked his chin into his neck as he watched the exquisite sight of Russell's pulling fist sandwiched between their bellies, the twin glistening cockheads pointing right at his face. His jaw dropped and jutted.

"I said, what's wrong with making love like this, hm?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all."

Russell closed his mouth over Steve's and then there was nothing for a long time but two strong bodies softly pulsing together. The older vampire's kisses were deep. He kissed his young friend like they were lovers who'd been parted for years and had at that very moment returned to each other's arms. Devouring kisses, they were both of them as passionate as the other. Then the tone shifted. Russell's hand slid from their bonded pricks and moved up so he could support himself with a palm on Steve's chest while he lifted his head. Now he used his tongue alone to caress the lips and fangs of his new favourite.

With a breathy giggle, the once uptight preacher cottoned on to his mentor's game and his own tongue came snaking out. Those playful organs toyed with each other, lapping slowly at smiling mouths; the pointed tips just touching; rolling over one another, shiny with spit. Russell sent a long stroke from the tip of one of Steve's fangs to the root and the eager boy did the same. The sounds their mouths made – the little pops and clicks of wet skin – excited them both almost as much as the sensations. Steve was in the act of stretching his tongue as far as it would go and flicking it rapidly over Russell's lips when the older vampire, maestro that he was, changed the tempo once again. His expression turned serious. He grasped Steve's neck near the top, holding his jaws in place. "Don't move," he warned. "Not one inch." Wide eyes told him arousal and fear were now mixed together, just as he'd planned. But Steve had nothing to fear from him, not really. He brought down his mouth, sent out his tongue and licked across the fledgling's slightly parted lips firmly and very wetly. It was as if he were licking a pussy, imagining those lips were those of a virgin pussy that required a masterful touch to unfurl. That's what Steve was, wasn't he? A virgin gay vampire that Russell would induct into a brave new world of ecstasy. The ancient Celt bared his teeth, turned his tongue hard as his cock and thrust it into Steve's plush warmth.

The body beneath him writhed as if silently screaming, compensating for the stopping of the mouth. When finally Steve shuddered and gave up resistance, Russell drew in his tongue and asked, "Are you ready?"

The face of an angel, lovely in defeat, looked up at him. "Take me, Russell," he whined. "Please, please, take me. Oh, Russell.." His eyes were yearning, pleading. His teacher sat back on his haunches and pressed apart his delicately-furred thighs. The boy's cock and balls made an unmissable target but that wasn't what he was after. No. Holding the flesh of his thighs firmly, he pushed them back until knees touched shoulders, all the while smiling a smile that was part avuncular, part rapist. And there it was – Steve Newlin's never-been-kissed asshole. It looked super-tight, just the way Russell liked 'em: a simple criss-crossing of lines, a little aster without a heart. "Aw," said Russell as he licked a forefinger.

"Ah!" cried Steve at the first tickling touch.

His mentor chuckled and pressed against the cushioned flesh. It resisted for a moment – he felt it pulse as Steve tensed – then his finger slid in deep.

The virgin let out a long, unearthly cry. It was only a finger but from the sound, you'd think he'd just been deflowered by the Devil himself, told his mother had died and won the lottery simultaneously. Russell concluded the boy was going to be a moaner. He could work with that. He considered adding another finger just to see what vocalisation would emerge but there was something about the simplicity of watching one finger fuck him that was very appealing. He began to put a little more force behind it, enjoying the rippling of Steve's buttocks as his hand slapped against him and the stretching of the puckered skin every time he pulled out. He climbed onto his knees so the boy could get a good view of the straining cock that would be fucking him very soon.

Framed by his own knees, the young vamp's face looked strangely sweet.

"Steve," said Russell. _"Steve!"_ And it was a moment or two before the he returned from whatever seventh heaven he was in. "Steve Newlin, I am going to sodomise you. I am going to plunge my cock inside you, inside your dirty little asshole and nail you to this floor, do you hear me?"

He nodded.

Russell had never looked more aggressive. He bared his teeth as he took hold of his swollen cock and slid it down Steve's gooch until the head slotted into the familiar hairy well of a male's anus.

"Wait!" cried the soon-to-be-ravished. "Don't I need some sort of lubrication?"

His superior only snarled and slammed his pelvis against his ass as every inch of his cock rammed home.

Transcendental moans. Vampires didn't need no lubrication!

A thousand different emotions passed over Steve's expressive face and Russell responded with a luxuriating sneer to ever one of them. He pored over him: the hardening of his nipples, the tightening of the muscles in his cheeks, the way his fingers clutched at the fleece then came round to clasp Russell's behind.

"Love me. Love me!" Steve shouted. It was not the first time he'd uttered those words but it was the first time they'd been accompanied by joy. He looked up into Russell's face with a look of adoration.

And this age-old vampire's heart suddenly beat, as vampire's may if pushed hard by physical or emotional strain. It was such an extraordinary sensation that it was Russell who now cried out. He could feel blood tingling in every extremity and something like a midnight flower blooming in his chest. His crisis was coming. He grabbed Steve's poor cock, which had been flapping around, untouched and unloved, and began to pull on it. The creamy feeling of the boy's bowels; his look of pained ecstasy; the Saint Sebastian writhing of his surprisingly lithe body – it was too much to resist and why would this most debauched of all vampires want to? Voice close to breaking, he yelled, "Take it, take my cum – take it all!" and climaxed violently, his shudders sending ripples through the lower quarters of his lover. A torrent of bloody cum poured out of him.

Steve's eyes went wide. "I can feel it! I can feel it shooting into me!" and with that, his face contorted and he shot his own load. As he came down, Russell super slow fucked him, churning the cum in his bowels, while he bent over and licked up the mess from his quivering belly. It gave him something to focus on while he sought to regain his composure. The boy had almost undone him.

Still with eyes closed and a post-orgasmic half-smile on his lips, Steve lolled on the sheepskin. "I'm so glad I'm gay," he murmured.

"I'm glad you're a vampire. I hated the fuck out of you when you were human."

His head rolled back to centre. He looked at his teacher with a feline expression, eyelids at half-mast. "Did you want to hurt me, Russell?"

"Darlin', I wanted – and I could – hurt you in ways you could barely imagine." The glimmer of SM sex to come hanging in the air was enough to make the lecher's cock twitch, and he decided then and there to go for another O. The languidness of Steve's dishevelled frame goaded him on. He fucked him harder this time, enjoying the slap of his hips and grunting with every thrust.

Just as Russell's pleasure was about to boil over, Steve propped himself up on his elbows and purred in his ear, "You know, I've still got that white suit."

His orgasm was powerful – protracted and muscular. This time, he made sure he spread Steve's knees wide so he could enjoy the sight of his cock pulsing inside his young friend's hole. "Aaah! You teasing little bitch," he told him pleasantly.

* * *

Turned out Steve liked to snuggle. Soon as Russell landed on the rug beside him, he threw an arm over his chest and tucked his head in his armpit. He hummed in approval when his mentor flopped a hand on his crown and stroked his neat sideburns with a middle finger.

The fire crackled. They both heard Emma's nails on the kitchen floor as she got up from her bed, turned and settled down again.

After a while, Steve said, "I'm not a tease."

"What's that, honey?"

He cocked an eye at him. "I _have_ still got that white suit."

"Mmmmm." Russell grinned.

"It could do with dry cleaning, though. I was made to wear it while I was turned. Kind of more muddy brown now."

"Steve Newlin, in the not-too-distant-future, you will find yourself hanging from a ceiling with that white suit in tatters around you while I flog and fuck you simultaneously. You'll come so hard, your jism will hit the opposite wall."

The baby vamp crooned and wriggled closer. Then the strangest thing happened. Self-doubt crept into his face; that face so many identified with unexamined conviction. A tiny vertical line appeared between his brows and his lips pursed. "I don't deserve you," he whispered.

"Whut? You know, I know exactly why you're saying that and I'm telling you now, boy, the way you were before you were turned makes me like you all the more now. I'm proud to be able to call you what you really are."

"A vampire?"

"My boyfriend."

Steve made that face again, that adorable face he'd made when Emma had first been handed to him: mouth an 'O', forehead furrowed at the painfulness of joy. He reached up and planted a lush kiss on his boyfriend's lips.

Russell chuckled and rained little kisses over his face before allowing him to fall asleep on his shoulder.

The fire died back to spitting embers. The haunting calls of night birds began to dominate sound in the room. The vampire of almost 3000 years with the soul of a brat watched the lids of his favourite fledgling flicker as he dreamed of lips and cocks and blood. He meditated on what an uninhibited lover Steve was compared to so many other vamps. Becoming vampire had released the sensuous being that had always resided within him, suppressed by years of indoctrination by mean-minded human moralists. Steve was undead proof that vampires truly were superior beings. They would inherit the earth. Russell Edgington would see to it. He kissed his sleeping honey's brow. He was so glad he'd given the order for him to be turned. "All because of you, Steve. All for you."


End file.
